Origin
by Xirysa
Summary: Everyone has their own beginnings. Also known as the nonsensical ramblings of a very sleep-deprived Xirysa. AU.


**Xirysa Says:** I WANT IT TO BE SUMMER. Really, I'm not built for cold weather. This 'fic is really just the nonsensical (hey, it really is a word!) ramblings of me, in Michigan, in the middle of one of the worst snow storms things we've had in a while. I always thought this song was funny, though my mom would probably shoot me if I ever wore a bikini… Pfeh. Like I would, anyway… Anyway, yeah. I'm done here. Really, _really_ AU. Like, crazily so. Anyway, I guess you could consider this crazy thing a prequel to _Solicitous_, if you want.

* * *

Origin

-x-x-x-

"_It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini  
That she wore for the first time today  
An itsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini  
So in the locker she wanted to stay."_

—Brian Hyland, _Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini_

-x-x-x-

"No."

"Really, Oscar!"

"No."

"Please? Try it on, at least! You don't have to buy it."

"No."

"B-but… Why?"

"I said no."

"Well, fine then! As your boss, I order you to!"

"And as a friend?"

"I still say you should."

"Then I still say no."

"But you need one!"

"Yes, but only because you burnt mine."

"I already said I'm sorry! How was I supposed to know it wasn't a rag?"

"Because it was hanging in my closet. And either way, the answer's still no."

Poor Marie was exasperated. She really, _really_ was. She knew why, of course. This was _Oscar_. Oscar, who, despite being a very beautiful woman, didn't know one thing—_one tiny little thing_—about fashion. Anything.

Well… That may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but people exaggerate a bit when they're exasperated, don't they? So Marie didn't really feel too guilty when the thought crossed her mind. She held out the item and waved it in her employee-turned-best-friend-who-was-still-her-employee's face. "_Please?_"

Oscar sighed. "Marie…"

"Pretty please with whipped cream and sugar and sprinkles and frosting and cherries on top?"

"_Fine_." Good grief, Marie was persistent. "But I'm only trying it on, alright?" Oscar took the item from the other woman's hands and stalked off towards the dressing room.

"Make sure you show me when you've got it on, alright?"

Marie smiled gleefully and waved at Oscar's retreating back when the other woman growled something under her breath about "inconsiderate bosses who shouldn't use their positions to abuse employees around for their own benefit". Her smile grew even wider. She knew that Oscar would thank her one day.

Probably not soon, but one day.

Eventually.

-x-x-x-

Oscar slammed the door of the dressing room stall behind her and glared at the… The _thing_ clenched in her hand. She hung it on one of the metal hooks jutting from the wall and leaned back against the wall to look at it again, now that she had calmed down a bit.

Which really wasn't that much at all.

But that's beside the point.

It was, Oscar decided begrudgingly, cute. Quite cute, actually. Especially for people who had a thing for bright yellow scraps of cloth that could barely cover a person's hand let alone their body.

Which really wasn't Oscar at all. In fact, she rather pitied the people who thought that they needed to show as much skin as possible in order to be liked because their lack of self confidence caused them to wallow in their own pathetic pools of self-pity and that deficiency caused them to have five shrieking kids by the time they were twenty-three.

With another on the way and probably a couple more in the following three or four years.

Give or take a few of the screaming spawn.

So she was exaggerating. People exaggerated when they felt strongly about something, didn't they? And Oscar definitely felt very strongly about the thing on the wall.

She liked the pattern, she supposed. Oscar always _did_ have a thing for spots. Ever since she was a girl. And polka dots were high on the list of spot favoritism. And the color of the spots was nice, too. Actually, the color combination was rather good. Red and yellow, but not that disgusting shade of yellow that looked like a vomited sponge, and not the hue of red that looked like someone had crapped blood.

Regardless of the rather disturbing picture, Oscar decided that she did like the color combination. The yellow made her think of the tall sunflowers that grew in her mother's garden, and the red reminded her of the fresh roses that Marie always kept in a jar of water on her desk.

The ones that always had a card attached to them that said _From your secret admirer_. Even that really wasn't a secret—everyone knew it was the new foreign guy. Well, he had been at the office for a couple of years, already. So it wasn't that much of a secret. And Marie liked him back; they had even gone out a few times.

Oscar had liked him too, once upon a time. But she had a new man in her life now, and Oscar thought that he was probably infinity times better in everyway than that Swedish dude. They were friends, yeah, but that's all they'd ever be.

But Oscar's mind had wandered. Again. Back to the matter at hand!

The cut of the cloth wasn't too bad either, she thought. In fact, for a bikini (because, if it wasn't obvious before, that's what it was) it was rather modestly cut. Of course, there were the little ties and things that all bikinis—all feminine swimwear in general, actually—had that basically screamed "Don't you want a piece of this!" to all observers, but Oscar had a feeling that she wouldn't feel like an exhibitionist while she walked around while wearing it.

Not that she was going to buy it, of course.

Definitely not.

Oscar sighed and pulled her shirt over her head. She should have never agreed to go shopping with Marie.

-x-x-x-

Marie, on the other hand, was very much excited. She was probably the first person to ever see Oscar in a swimsuit—well, a bikini, really. Oscar had said she had taken courses in being a life guard when she was younger—didn't that mean they had to wear swimsuits?

A picture of Oscar wearing one of the bright red swim suits from _Baywatch_ and running in slow motion through the surf suddenly appeared in her mind, and Marie tried very hard not to fall of the bench from laughing so hard.

"What's wrong? You look like your head's about to explode or something." Speak of the devil.

Looking down to avoid eye contact, Marie hiccupped and fanned at her face in an attempt to cool herself down. "Ah… Nothing." Giggle. "Nope." Snort. "Nothing at all." Full-blown cackling.

She could hear Oscar sigh above her. Gee, the girl really did like sighing, didn't she? "Fine. Then I'm going to go back and change."

"N-no. Wait." Marie sniffed and looked up. "Alright, I'm fine now, and—_hot damn, womanl!_" Marie rarely swore—it was a vulgar habit, after all—but sometimes she did.

Like now.

Oh, gosh.

Wow.

Regardless of what she thought about herself, Oscar was hot. Really, really hot. Like, hot enough that, next to her, the sun would be freakin' cold. Now _that's_ hot.

So she was exaggerating again.

Whatever.

But Oscar _did_ look really good. On other women, the bikini would have looked tacky. Or would have made the wearer look like a whore. Or both. Either way, Marie's mother didn't like whores and people like them, and Marie didn't like them either.

…She was getting off topic again. So Marie got _on_ topic with a simple statement.

"You're getting it."

Oscar just blinked at her. "What…?"

"Really, Oscar." Marie rolled her eyes—she was very good at it, too. "Did you see yourself in the mirror? You look hot."

Her friend didn't seem amused. "Excuse me while I go hang myself." She turned to walk away, but Marie grabbed her wrist before she got very far.

Despite being so small, Marie was actually quite strong. Frighteningly so, sometimes.

"You," she began in that scary I'm-your-boss-so-you're-going-to-listen-and-listen-well voice of hers, "are going to wear that bikini when we go to the beach tomorrow. Even if I have to knock you unconscious and drag you down their myself."

Whenever Marie got like this, it was rather scary. Oscar knew she'd probably act on her word. _But why on earth had she decided to come shopping?_ Going to the beach was one thing—they always went this time of year; it was tradition. But why couldn't she wear her old comfortable suit?

Oh yeah. Marie had burned it.

Oscar sighed. Again. "Fine. I'll get it."

Marie looked thoroughly pleased. "Great! I'm sure André will love it." She ignored her friend's sudden blush and continued on. "Now we need accessories!"

"A-accessories?" Oscar blanched. This was not a good day.

Not a good day at all.

-x-x-x-

Alain was mad.

Alain was mad because while _he_ had stay in the hospital, André got to go to the beach. _The beach_. Let alone the fact that he didn't have to go to work, André also had the pleasure of watching the numerous scantily clad chicks walking around and helping them put on sunscreen.

Not that he would, anyway. Everyone knew he had eyes for only one lady.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?" Alain shifted around on the bed a bit until he was comfortable again. "You get to go to the beach, while I'm stuck inside this God damn hospital."

André sighed and looked at his friend. "I suggest you don't say that, Alain. It's only because I work here that you got in so easily. But how you managed to slice open your leg and break your arm while opening a can of soup, I'll never know." He paused and crossed his arms over his chest. "You were drunk, weren't you?"

"Just a bit."

"Stupid bastard. Why do I call you my friend, again?"

Alain grinned. "Because you love me?"

Scratching his chin thoughtfully, André shook his head. "No, not that…" He laughed at Alain's spluttered response before turning to leave the room. "Don't worry—I won't tell anyone that you needed a pediatrician to come up here because no one could get the IV into you."

"I was delirious!" Alain shouted indignantly. But it was too late—André had already gone. "Fucking sadist." But Alain's sour mood suddenly got a whole lot sweeter when the nurse walked into the room.

He mentally pumped his fist. Score! Screw André and the beach.

Alain had a sexy nurse taking care of him.

-x-x-x-

"I'm not going out there."

Marie sighed. "C'mon, Oscar! We're already here."

Oscar shook her head. "I don't want to go, Marie! What if…" She bit her lip worriedly and looked around as if people were listening. Which was rather pointless, since they were inside Marie's car, and there was no way a person really _could_ be listening. "What if André doesn't like it?"

What? Marie blinked. "Oscar, in all the years that I've known you, I thought that you were the smartest person that I knew." She shook her head. "Apparently, I was wrong." She got out of the car.

"W-wait! Marie!" Oscar stammered as she followed suit. Wait, Oscar… stammered? Oh, what was the world coming to? She stopped when she felt something soft hit her face.

"Wrap it around yourself if you don't feel comfortable. Meanwhile, _I_ am going to go work on my tan."

Oscar took the towel gratefully. "Thanks a lot, Marie. You're the best."

Since she couldn't tell if it was a compliment or an insult, Marie decided to think of it as a compliment. "You're welcome. And I know."

They split off, then, with Marie heading to the sunnier, more populated side of the beach and Oscar wrapped the towel around her shoulders before trudging along to the less crowded side. Oscar shifted the large red bag that Marie swore matched the suit perfectly and clutched at the ridiculously large hat on her head. She felt like a poppy. She looked down, so that people wouldn't recognize her, and felt rather safe.

Then she bumped into someone.

Oscar looked up, ready to mouth off who ever who had made her already bad day even worse, but shut it quickly when she saw who it was. "Er, hi André."

He looked down at her, and she took a moment to admire how great he looked. Of course, she'd seen him topless (among other things) many times, but hey. She could still appreciate her man, couldn't she?

"Hey, Oscar. How was Marie's?"

Oscar groaned, and André suddenly felt that he had done something wrong. "Remind me to never go shopping with her again. At least I got to spend the night at her place instead of having to drive all the way home." She looked up at him. "How was the hospital? Is Alain doing any better?"

Now it was André's turn to groan. "If he hits on the nurses one more time, I may have to sue. I ended up sleeping in the staff lounge."

"Poor baby. I'm not surprised." She shuffled uncomfortably, and the towel slipped down over one shoulder.

André looked at her. "Is something wrong?" He looked at her again. "You _are_ wearing clothes underneath that, aren't you?"

"André!" Oscar reached out to swat him, and the towel slipped down even further. "Of course I am!"

He sighed and held her shoulders. "Oscar, I'm your husband. Do you really think that I give a damn about what you wear?" He grinned. "Although, if it were up to me… You really wouldn't be wearing anything at all."

Oscar blinked at him. "Then what are we doing here?"

It took André a few moments to realize what Oscar had said, but they were already running to where his car was parked before he could really say anything.

And after they got home, it was actually a rather long time before either of them said anything.

-x-x-x-

"And that's how you were created," André says to the small pale face surrounded by blankets. "Not that you'd understand or anything. I hope you don't, actually. That would be odd. And a tad scary."

Oscar laughs. "We're probably the oddest parents ever. The woman with a man's name and the man who I sometimes think is the most ADD doctor ever."

André doesn't seem to hear her. Instead, he looks at Oscar, and she feels herself anticipating what could happen next when she recognizes the look in his eyes. It's like there's butterflies—scratch that. It's like there's _locusts_ hopping about inside of her and procreating every second.

Alright, she exaggerated again. Big deal.

"What do you want, André?" She has a feeling she knows what, but it's still more fun to ask, right?

"I think we need to make this little girl," he nods to the sleeping face in the cradle, "a big sister."

Her mouth pressing eagerly against his is the only response he receives.

* * *

**Xirysa Says:** I was watching TV during lunch when that one Yoplait commercial, I think, popped up. You may know the one. She's eating the yogurt to fit into the bikini? And then BAM. Inspired. …I know, I'm odd. Deal with it. 8D Alrighty, then… I'm done now. Somehow, when I don't get enough sleep, I tend to act a little odd. Do I seem odd? 'Cause I feel rather fine right now. Kekekekekekeke. Alright, I'm done. I swear. But still, if you read, please review. I need to take a nap. Or go to bed soon. GAH ONLY ONE MORE WEEK. Er, yeah. The 'fic. What can I say? I'm a goof. And I've got way too much sugar in my system. STUPID GUMMY BEARS. And now that I'm done, I really don't have much to say on this at all. I swear, I'll actually write something good when exams are done.


End file.
